A slice of Humble Pie

I am a good cook. My mom taught me to cook and you know what they say when you learn from the best...actually I don't know what they say but let me assure you, I am pretty darn good.

A lot of my self esteem is wrapped up in this. Sometimes it is hard for me to think I am a good mother or creative or organized; all things I strive for. But I do know that I can feed my family well. I show my family I love them through food. I think that is something else I learned from my mother.

About four years ago we celebrated Thanksgiving with my family and my mom let me make all the pie crusts. It was a right of passage for me. She was letting me take the reigns. No one else has ever been given that much trust.
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A few months ago some friends of ours invited us over for dinner. They served us a wonderful meal and even made homemade apple pie for dessert. Blaine loved the apple pie. He said so. In fact, he said so about five times while he was licking his plate clean. (My plate did not get licked clean, no where near. But Blaine would have offered to lick it clean.) He even comented about how much he liked her pie as we were leaving their house to which she(Mrs. Apple) obliviously, sweetly but obliviously, offered to teach me how to make her apple pie since my husband loved it so much. Deep breath, deep breath.

Does any one else see where this is going?

It quickly became a joking/sore spot with me. I claimed I was never going to make apple pie again if Blaine didn't like mine as much as Mrs. Apple's pie. Then it grew to I was never going to make pie again. The next time Blaine positively commented on something I made for dinner, I didn't believe him. I thought he was just trying to make me feel good.

I started planning my Thanksgiving meal. We are hosting a large group and I was assigning food to everyone. I wanted to make the pies. I wanted to show I could do it. I started planning how I could make different types, use different recipes and then he would have to like one of them better than Mrs. Apple's, right? Then I got a more wicked plan brewing. What if everyone brought a pie, and I could somehow get Mrs. Apple to contribute one (even though she was going to The States for Thanksgiving) and then we could have a blind taste-test. I could come up with a system, rate each aspect of the pie; the crust, tartness, the flavor, the appearance, etc. I could make little score cards for everyone. And in the end, surely everyone would pick mine as the best and all would be right with the world again.

Wow, evil plotting is exhausting.

I calmed down a little and realized I wouldn't make any pies. Let them eat cake! Just kidding. But what is Thanksgiving truly without Blaine straining a hamstring during the turkey bowl and me making apple pie? So I decided I would make one and we would just eat it the day before with our family. I even made the kids stop talking about it and decided I wouldn't bring it up any more and I would forget it ever happened. I could almost see myself laughing at it in 25 years.

Yesterday, I talked to Mrs. Apple and found out their trip had been canceled. I invited her and her husband to our Thanksgiving celebration. She offered to bring an apple pie because she knows how much my husband likes hers.

Oh, It's on sista!

I told Blaine Mr. and Mrs. Fuji Apple were coming, and what she said, and how it made me feel. He said he was sorry. I said, "Sorry for what you said and for liking her pie better than mine?" He replied, "No, sorry you got offended."

I called my mom on the way to the store, armed with my shopping list of tart baking apples. I thought she would laugh at me for the troubles I layed at her feet but she didn't. She sympathized. And then she said, "You know what this feeling is don't you? It's called pride."

I know, I know, I know!!! And I was doing so good until I had it thrown back in my face. Ok not good but I was dealing with it...I had begun to deal with it...I was seeing that I was going to deal with it sometime very soon.

I didn't buy any apples, just sweet potatoes, and butter and pecans, lots and lots of pecans.

Never would I have guessed that I would be doing a lot of praying about pie but I have. And the chip on my shoulder is getting smaller each time.

And this Thanksgiving, I will graciously accept Mrs. Apple's pie into my home, thank her for bringing it, and cut my husband an extra large piece of it because I know it will make him happy.

I, for one, will not be making an apple pie this year.

Blaine's favorite pie is pecan pie anyways!